


The Benefits of Keeping with Traditions

by wishfulmish



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Halloween, It's All Gabriel's Fault, M/M, Trick or Treating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 07:42:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2539820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishfulmish/pseuds/wishfulmish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every year since they were little, Castiel and Gabriel have gone out trick-or-treating. Even now that they're grown men, Gabe still insists on going. And of course it's going to be the same old routine, except, well - this year, there's a slight change in plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Benefits of Keeping with Traditions

Gabriel was much too old for trick-or-treating. In fact, he had been for quite some time. Ten years, round and about, or so it seemed to Castiel, who was the unfortunate brother forced to footslog his way through cramped alleys and over rubbish-speckled fields in order for Gabe to reach the most generous houses before the crowds of greedy ankle-bitters nicked all the good stuff. There had been a year, once long ago, when they had arrived a little late to find the sweets had already been piled into the children's paper bags and pumpkin-shaped buckets, and the Lollipop Lady – so named due to the abundance of those boiled sweets she thrust into Gabriel's arms, forests of flavour and oceans of colour so mouth-wateringly vivid that Castiel swore he could see Gabe tremble – had sent them her most compunctious smile, apologising profusely and offering them the choice of several assorted fruits instead. She was an old, wilting woman, holding the title of widow for at least a decade, her spectacles constantly attempting a trip down her nose and her face so gaunt it appeared as though she were dying from starvation. She was quiet and kindly and had not at all been prepared for the tantrum that was to follow her fatal offering. Excessive profanity aside, it had been a display akin to that a four-year-old would've given had they been told, No, they could not have that toy, it was expensive and had no use, and Yes, you do have your first day of school tomorrow, and, Of course, why wouldn't Great Aunt Agatha be staying here for the holidays? After witnessing the rather heartbreaking sight of the old girl folding in on herself with every word his brother issued, and her eventual escape by a slow crawl back towards her porch, Castiel had decided it was better they be there and gone by the time the gaggle of traditional candy grabbers made their appearance, and had gone out of his way ever since to achieve perfect punctuality on this single night.

There were certain situations in which Gabriel's behaviour would have been acceptable. If he was the youngest brother, for instance. However, this was far from true, as the pint-sized man just happened to be the first born in a family of three. And yet somehow, it was left up to Castiel, the _real_ baby of the family, to look after him. There had been several failed attempts at convincing Anna to take him instead, all of which resulting in her finding some friend who just _needed_ her to be at their place tonight, and even though Castiel had pointed out he had friends too (well, _friend_ , but Meg had enough attitude to count for at least a trio), it was all to no avail. And thus he was burdened with this job year after year, to the point of ridiculousness, but no, age wasn't about to stop Gabriel from enjoying his sugary delights. Neither, apparently, was the bill that was slowly accumulating from trips to the dentist, numerous fillings, and for a brief point in time, braces.

The only thing which made the task a little less humiliating was Gabriel's height – thanks to that, he could be easily mistaken for someone younger, or at least from a distance. Castiel didn't plan on getting up close and personal with anyone tonight, anyway. He'd rather just knock on the door, pipe the required line which Gabe _insisted_ they still use despite the dodgy looks they received for it, and be on their merry way. If all went well, they'd be back by around ten and Cas would be able get enough shut eye to find Gabriel's morning toothache hilarious as ever. After all these years he still never learnt, and the strange, feline howls he emitted whilst clutching his throbbing jaw never got old.

On this particular night they set off at half seven on the dot – Gabriel had whined that that wouldn't be enough time to accumulate all the goodies the streets had to offer, but Cas pointed out that, if they stuck to the plan, keeping their steps brisk and the chit-chat to a minimum, they should perhaps even end up with some minuets to kill. His brother's pout had gone unnoticed as they gathered their things and called a goodbye to their father, the night air humid and wind lifting hair from his temples as Castiel stepped outside. Fine weather for the job at hand, and therefore one less thing for Gabriel to complain about.

His brother followed soon after, decked out in what appeared to be set of green and black robes, a staff clutched in one hand, a strange piece of horned headgear covering the sides of his crown. He swished his way over to Cas, who gave him the specific head tilt which indicated he understood there was a reference in their general vicinity, but did not understand said reference nor why certain people felt the desire to make it. Gabriel just snorted at him and said, "Guess."

Cas' brow furrowed, his eyes squinting despite how little the action would aid him in his deduction. He racked his memories for a spark of recognition. "You're..." He trailed off, biting his lip, before trying again with, "You're some kind of fairy?"

Gabriel's mouth flopped open. " _Some kind of fairy?_ " he mimicked, throwing his voice down several octaves to match Cas' smooth baritone. He shook his head, huffing. "I'm Loki, you dumbass."

"Loki?" Now Cas was even more puzzled. "Gabriel, I'm pretty sure Loki wore the attire of a jester, if the legends are to be believed. Nor do I remember reading about him wielding a staff."

"This isn't a _staff_ ," Gabriel hissed. "It's the Chitauri Sceptre. And I'm not mythological Loki, I'm -" He broke off, pinching his nose. "You know what, never mind. Let's just go."

Cas failed to see what other type of Loki there was, but bit back the question in fear of eliciting more sarcasm, as well as the suggestion to wrap himself in the innards of his sons to make the costume that tad more authentic. Instead he shoved his hands into his coat pockets and trudged along beside his brother, the shadows painting inky smudges upon the ground, autumn leaves crunching underfoot like broken bones. Castiel scrunched his nose, a little amazed at how his similes seemed to alter to match the time of year.

After a few steps the silence grew too much for Gabriel, which was really to be expected considering he made up for Castiel's lack of words with ample doses of his own. He looked his brother up and down with a scowl gracing his features, lips sloping downwards like some invisible temptation was drawing them there. "So who're you supposed to be, anyway?" he asked. "John Constantine?"

Castiel merely blinked at him. "Who?"

"Really." It wasn't even a question, just a simple statement, a solid block of disbelief and languid disappointment. "You're a lost cause, y'know that? You need to read more."

"I _do_ read. My collection of novels is far more extensive and diverse than yours."

Gabriel flapped a hand. "Not _those_ kinds of books!" He skirted round a lamppost, still managing to let Castiel get a glimpse of the signature eye roll he reserved for those times when the idiocy of his family made him question his true birth mother. "I'm talking about proper, action packed stuff - the hardcore type of reading that pulls your heart out through your throat. Your sweet little paperbacks have _nothing_ on that."

Castiel shrugged. "I prefer actual articles of intellectual stimulation over thin sheets inked with the imagination the reader is lacking. Feel free shoot me."

Gabriel let out a low whistle. "Ooh, Cassie's got some sass!"

He cackled, sound akin to a howler monkey having an asthma attack, and pranced off before Castiel could even begin to contemplate taking a swipe at him. The younger brother simply gritted his teeth instead, the motion an automatic reaction after living with his family for so long. He followed Gabe up the well-worn path, brambles clustering on either side like eager fans near the red carpet, and up to the first house, a sagging stone building amidst a forest of bricks and concrete, roof a punctured hat threatening to slip off its head. Gabriel was already reaching up to place a hefty knock upon the flaking door, swinging on his heels as he waited for his call to be answered.

A few seconds later and a woman was opening the door, ashy hair framing a buoyant face, her eyebrows only raising marginally in surprise at seeing a fully grown man standing at her doorstep with a colourfully painted bag swinging from his arm. She must have only moved in recently, otherwise her shock wouldn't have registered at all.

"Trick or treat," Gabriel sang, shooting her his most alluring smile. The woman flushed red, clearly pleased at receiving such a thing from the obviously charismatic individual in front of her, and ducked inside to retrieve some tooth-rotting substance as reward.

Soon they were back on the road again, both clutching their stashes with ample glee and mild indifference, respectively. Castiel didn't actually want the candy – he didn't mind a bite of chocolate or a packet of crisps here and there, but over all his tastes tended to lean toward the savoury end of the spectrum. Still, the dear benefactors of these treats insisted he not go without, even if his half just ended up going back to Gabriel anyway.

The time passed a bit quicker after that, soon turning into a blur of beaming faces and snatching hands and shouted thanks and that phrase, over and over, the rhythm of impatient knocks drilling itself into Castiel's head. Despite that, it was one of the better years, the distributors amiable and Gabriel's mood positively upbeat. By the time they were finished with the last house on the list, their arms were cracking under the weight of their haul, with Gabriel's movements bordering on skipping and a small smile painted on Castiel's lips. Some things never changed.

His brother was examining two different lollipops, courtesy of a trembling old woman who on occasion forgot her own address but ever since that incident always remembered to stock up on extra sweets. He held them out to Cas, asking, “Tropical Explosion or Cookies N' Cream?”

Castiel studied the plastic wrappings for a moment before deciding, “Cookies N' Cream.”

“Tropical Explosion it is,” Gabriel said, tossing Castiel's choice back inside his bag. Castiel merely rolled his eyes by way of retort.

A few minutes later, those same eyes were narrowed into slits, jaw set and voice firm as he said, “No.”

“But _whhhhhy_?” It wasn't a word, not really. More of a drawn out whine.

“Because,” Castiel stated, ignoring the enormous puppy eyes being sent his way, “we're finished. And besides, there's nothing up there but parties.”

“Yeah, that's kinda the point.”

“Gabriel, we are _not -_ ” Cas began, but was unable to say more due to the recipient of his lecture having bounded off in a different direction. Muttering a few choice words under his breath, he took off after him, coat flapping out behind, arms pumping by his sides as he called out, “You weren't even invited!”

“It's a goddamn party!” Gabriel yelled back. “I don't have to be!”

They ran through the alley between the corner shop and the florist's, out onto a small path which led to a set of rusting iron gates, open and clinging to their hinges by nothing but sheer willpower. Castiel doubted anyone even bothered to close them any more. His face turning beet red, sweat streaming into his eyes, he followed Gabe through, cursing the amount of times he'd cut P.E. Class as a teenager. By the time he rounded the corner around a row of perfectly aligned houses, identical even down to the height of the grass on their front lawn, Gabe had already approached a door, which was currently being edged open, the light spilling through quickly extinguished by what appeared to be a giant wrapped in plaid. Cas watched from his vantage point at the letterbox as they conversed, his brother's hands occasionally dancing through the air like desperate birds, until finally the mountain of a man stepped to the side and Gabriel slipped in. The door slammed shut and Castiel was alone.

He sunk down onto the kerb, the night suddenly taking on sepulchral tones. Gabriel had asked to come down to this estate on their previous outings, of course, but Castiel had always had the excuse of Gabe's promise to be home on time. Now even that was gone, washed away by his desire for efficiency. They had fifteen minutes left, though Cas had no questions as to whether his brother would be in that place until at least after midnight. He glanced back at the house, light pouring out the windows like liquid gold and pounding music audible even from this distance, and wondered absently why his brother had chosen this place in particular. 

He lost count of how long he was stationed out there for, minutes and hours blending together, but he guessed it had to be quite some time considering the pins and needles fluttering down his limbs. He probably wouldn't have noticed them, however, had the person not spoken up.

“You okay down there?”

Castiel's heart made a kamikaze dive towards his ribs as the silence was broken by a fluid, faintly amused voice, and the next minute he was gazing up into a pair of glinting verdant eyes, like a sly cat watching from the shadows. He would've liked to have said that was the moment his breath stopped, his body ceased movement, his mind sped into overdrive, all caught in some sort of proverbial net due to the sheer beauty of those eyes. Instead, he glimpsed the rest of the person and screamed.

The decaying creature before him jerked back, pupils wide and frantic. His arms flailed for a second before he got them under control and held them out in a gesture of peace, saying, “Calm down, man, it's just a costume!”

Castiel gulped down lungfuls of air, his breaths finally returning to their natural rate. Cautiously, he peeked from beneath his lashes at the figure, and found what he'd mistaken for a shambling corpse was in fact a man in costume, albeit a very convincing one. Blood was plastered across his face and arms, the area around his eyes encompassed by rings of black, and his skin appeared to be peeling, as if Castiel could just reach up and tear it all off. His jeans were torn at the knee, massive gashes running up and down his legs, and there was a wide gap in the front of his shirt, revealing what looked suspiciously like a gunshot wound, oozing a vile black liquid. Fake it may have been, but it still made Cas want to shudder.

The man smiled at him, though that didn't really help considering his teeth were stained yellow and crooked. He must have saw this in the expression on Cas' face, for he spat them out into his hand – or rather, he spat out the pair of dentures posing as them, to Castiel's relief. The man turned and tossed them into the grass, before plopping down beside Cas on the ground.

Cas smiled at him, then indicated his head towards the dentures' general direction. “You didn't have to throw them away.”

The man shrugged. “Didn't like them much, anyway. It was Charlie who insisted I go the whole hog on this Halloween thing. I'd have been fine coming as a nudist on strike.” He flashed Cas a grin, pearly whites a startling contrast to those he'd bore a moment ago. Hesitantly, Castiel grinned back.

“So.” The man leant his back against the letterbox, folding his arms over a broad chest. “What's your story, stranger?”

“My brother,” Castiel explained with a touch of bitterness. “He left me out here to attend your party.”

“Your brother? He a short guy, by any chance? Kinda crafty lookin'? Currently dancing pantless on a table?”

Castiel groaned. “ _Already?_ ”

The zombie man chucked, before defaulting to sombre once more. “That sucks, though. Him leaving you out here.”

Castiel lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “Well, it is my fault in part. I should have let him go when he asked before.”

“Being the oldest is pretty crappy sometimes, huh?”

Castiel levelled his stare. “Gabriel is three years my senior.”

“Oh.” The guy blinked at him, then scratched awkwardly at his neck. “Well, Sammy's never had to babysit me before, that's for certain!” He held out a held. “I'm Dean, by the way. Dean Winchester. I live here.”

Castiel took the hand and shook it. “Castiel Milton. My house is in the estate across town.”

“Nice to meet ya, Cas.” Castiel flushed momentarily at a nickname he'd previously only heard family and close friends use. Dean's voice added a rough edge to the word, which oddly enough made Cas' skin tingle. He nodded towards Castiel's attire, saying, “I've never seen someone dressed as Constantine before.”

Castiel grappled with the urge to toss his hands in the air. “Why does everybody say that? These are my normal clothes!”

“Wow. Well, maybe you're an unconscious fan or something.” 

There was a comfortable silence in which Castiel turned his eyes to the heavens, gaze lingering on each star and committing it to memory. Finally Dean cleared his throat and said, “Y'know, I've got some issues of Hellblazer inside if you wanna borrow 'em – that is, if you haven't already read it.”

Cas shook his head. “No, I haven't.” He turned to Dean, seeing some of his make-up had smudged, revealing a frosting of freckles below. Castiel found his eyes gluing themselves to that face, the strong jaw coupled with a boyish smile. And of course the eyes, twin gems set into a filigree chalice. “I'd like to, though.”

Dean's mouth gave just a small twitch, but it was almost as if someone had flicked a switch, turning on a light which blazed from the inside out. He stood up and offered Castiel a hand, which the other man accepted gratefully.

He dusted off his trousers before bending town to retrieve his goodie bag, almost missing the way Dean's eyes alighted on the sweets. He held out the bag in offering.

“Just one is fine,” Dean said, though his hand betrayed him and fished out several. He smirked at Cas as he popped one in his mouth, those twisting lips melting his brain into a puddle, not to mention the well built planes of his body he could now see much more clearly. Then Dean was bounding up the path, forcing Cas to move to keep up, his heart hammering once more but for an entirely different reason.

They reached the door, and Dean paused, his hand hovering over the handle. "By the way, I, uh, didn't end up bringing a date to the party, which is kinda embarrassing seeing as it's my place. So if someone asks, would you mind pretending -"

"I'll say I'm your date," Cas interrupted him, words slow and deliberate. "But...whoever said anything about pretending?" 

He watched with a sudden stabbing of nervousness for Dean's reaction, but the man just flashed him that same grin, wider and more brilliant than it had been before. "Just makin' sure I had something to fall back on. I've been rejected before. Not very often, but it happens."

"Can't imagine why."

Dean laughed then, the motion taking over his whole body, before opening the door with one hand and taking Castiel's with the other.

And as he followed Dean inside, exchanging jibes and the occasional compliment all the way, Castiel found himself being thankful, for once, that his naive past self had agreed to this long ago. After years upon years of tricking, perhaps his treat was finally in sight.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know it's cheesy, but I wanted to write something cute! Happy Halloween, everyone!


End file.
